“You must have a serious case of OCD,” I said in way of a greeting.
He descended on the fallen bagel, blotting up jam from his rug with a paper towel. “My dad gets on my case if my room’s messy,” he said.
I snorted. “I’m not sure my dad’s been inside my room since middle school.”
I closed the door behind me and hovered between the bed and the TV.
“Lucky.”
“Not really.”
“You’re dad’s a decent guy. He helped me change a tire once on the side of the road.”
“So.” I rocked up on my heels. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”
He was done cleaning up the bagel and returned to the foot of his bed. “Nah. Remember?” A suggestive lift of his eyebrow. “I had you pegged for the freaky one from the start. Knew you’d want some of this.”
“Shut up,” I said. “It’s Order business.”
“Oh.” He straightened up, attentive.
I took a calming breath. “I have a secret rite for you and Trent today. In addition to the instructions you’re going to be given at school.”
“I’m in.”
“You don’t know what the secret rite is yet.”
“This IV thing has been more fun than I used to have”—he lowered his voice to a whisper, eyes flicking to the closed door—“busting up my dad’s model homes.”
“You know how there are always goats along highway eighty-nine eating grass? Along that deserted span after the Oak Hurst exit?”
“Yeah. It’s near a goat farm or something.”
“I need you and Trent to go after school and get one of them. But not a baby, okay?”
“A kid—that’s what the babies are called,” he said unexpectedly.
I nodded. “Swear you won’t get a kid.”
“Sure.”
“So you and Trent will do it?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Trent’s got a pickup.”
“Don’t let anyone see you take the goat, though, okay?”
“No, really?” He rolled his eyes.
“And you’ll bring it with you tonight?”
“If that’s the rite. Yup.”
“Okay. And don’t mention it to anyone—not your friends. Not even mine.”
He smirked. “Not your boyfriend?”
“I don’t want him to feel culpable about the goat. Bad for it.”
“You don’t care if I do?”
“No. I don’t, Conner. You’re an irredeemable asshole.”
“You didn’t think I was an asshole when I forfeited my title of Tetherball Champion of Seven Hills Elementary to let you win after your grandpa died.” He smirked. “How could I forget? I got teased so bad for a month because the boys thought a girl beat me.”
“A lot’s happened since then, Conner.”
He inclined his head. I gave him an awkward nod good-bye. Halfway out the door, I added, “Oh. Here.” I set the thermos on his dresser. “I brought coffee in case I had to bribe you to steal the goat.”
“As people do.”
My smile was genuine, because in that moment I hated Conner a little less than usual.
? ? ?
We met our initiates in the turnout on Old Creek Road at three a.m. It was a quiet side street; head north and you’d hit the Ghost Tunnel; head south and you’d end up at the beach. Eucalyptus trees with great swaths of peeling bark framed the turnout.
I stepped out into the chilly night scented by the trees; almost like peppermint balm. Amanda, Jess, and Rachel sat on the tailgate of Trent’s truck. Campbell paced, hands gripping his beanie, muttering to himself.
Conner kicked haphazardly at the gravel of the shoulder, sending rock sprays against one of their parked cars.
Graham spoke to them first. “Did you see any other cars on the road? You remembered to take Lagoon here rather than Main Street with the traffic cam, right?”
Rachel dabbed the corners of her eyes with a sleeve. Amanda’s face spasmed. Conner spun around like he was waiting for someone to come out of the trees. “Trent,” he called, “hurry up pissing.”
“God,” Amanda muttered, “shut up already.”
The four of us traded uneasy glances.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Trent killed it,” Conner said, gesturing wildly at the truck bed.
A cold nausea swept through me, my skin turning clammy, my ears ringing. I was the only one out of my friends who understood. I was going to have to explain why I wanted the goat and what fate I’d had in mind for it.
“Uh, killed what?” Viv asked. Silence. “Jess?”
Jess rapped a fist on the truck. “Better look for yourselves.”
“You gave them one job. One job. And they screwed it up,” Amanda said empathically. “This is so not on me.”
“Or me,” Rachel echoed.
Graham, Harry, and Viv walked tentatively for the truck bed. Harry glanced uneasily back at me when I didn’t move in tandem. Their harsh intakes of breath came as they made sense of the motionless lump.
“What is a dead goat doing in the truck?” Harry asked.
Trent came from the trees fidgeting with his zipper, apparently having just relieved himself. He took in the scene. Raised both hands like he was surrendering to the police. “It was an accident. I drove the truck into their pasture because I thought it’d be easier getting a goat with the truck right inside the gate. And it was. But then I backed up.”
“And?” Graham said.
“I ran over one.”
“And rather than bringing you a live goat like you asked for, they showed up with this dead one, and then told us the whole story,” Amanda said. She was angry not over the goat’s death, but because she thought our rebellion required a live animal. My fault. I’d unleashed Conner and Trent on the goats in the first place. I had intended to kill one. To take another life.
Harry sputtered, practically writhing with anger. I took his hand and squeezed. “It’s the goat we needed for tonight, Har.” I spoke softly, imploring. “You know, to hang in the gazebo. Like they did with the dogs?” Confusion, understanding, and disappointment registered on Harry’s face in quick succession, marring his beautiful features.
Graham went from covering his open mouth to nodding. “Oh yeah, thanks for procuring it for us.” He slapped Conner hard on the back, keeping his gray quizzical eyes on mine. He wondered why I hadn’t told him. I wouldn’t have an answer for him. “You saved us the trouble of killing him or having you kill him—but on purpose.”
Viv was tellingly silent.
“Wait,” Trent said, “we were going to kill the goat?”
I busied myself with the supplies in Viv’s trunk as I said, “Yes.”
“See,” Trent went on, “I didn’t ruin anything.”
“Let’s stop wasting time,” I said. “Did everyone leave their cells at home?”
“We’re going to need more than nods, people,” Graham said. “Us getting away with this requires that all cells are home. This isn’t graffiti tonight. There will be a full-blown investigation.”
They gathered by the trunk, surveying the supplies. I’d confirmed three times that we had everything. Accelerant in a red plastic tank. My Polaroid camera. Coil of rope. Ten water bottles full of blood. One can of red spray paint. Flashlights. And a lighter.